


Partners in Crime

by InnerCinema



Series: Hakuna Matata [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clint Needs a Hug, Gen, IronHawk Bromance, Prologue, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerCinema/pseuds/InnerCinema
Summary: Grass and rubble have long since been replaced by asphalt alongside fields and the tentative half-moon by the dull light of a hazy day. The pain in his right knee has flared up again but he would pull himself along by his teeth to bring more space between him and Carson’s. Yes, maybe there is nowhere to go for people like him but he’d rather spend the remainder of his life traveling in the opposite direction than ever go back.
Or: A gas station meet cute is all you need to turn your life around.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A very special thanks to the wonderful, talented and, above all, patient [arwenxs](http://arwenxs.tumblr.com/) who was kind enough to beta for me! Thank you so much! (Seriously, I am an unreliable mess.)
> 
> Also thanks to [Potrix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix), [27dragons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons) and [finely honed](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar) for their cheer and input!

_„I want to leave. “_

_„Go **where** , Clint?! There **is** nowhere else. “_

Barney’s words echo in his mind with every step he takes. Grass and rubble have long since been replaced by asphalt alongside fields and the tentative half-moon by the dull light of a hazy day. The pain in his right knee has flared up again but he would pull himself along by his teeth to bring more space between him and Carson’s. Yes, maybe there is nowhere to go for people like him but he’d rather spend the remainder of his life traveling in the opposite direction than ever go back.

Clint looks back up ahead. The gas station has barely come closer during the time he’s spaced out. He doesn’t even know if its existence is of importance since it isn’t like he’s got any money on him and if he looks as well as he feels… swift fingers are only useful if the store manager doesn’t watch your every movement. But it’s either stealing or begging and there is nothing but dry fields and dusty roads as far as he can see.

And if that doesn’t work, well, it’s not like anyone would miss him.

Not even Barney.

A soft, humorless chuckle escapes his lips as he trudges on. Hey, at least dying would only be the second worst thing that has happened today.

His throat feels parched when he reaches the gas station and a look at the bright blob in the misty grey sky reveals that it has to be almost noon. There are a few cars standing by the gas pumps. Maybe with all those people nobody will notice if he sneaks a bottle of water out of the shop. So he quickly dusts himself off, straightens and ignores his knee’s protests as he enters the shop.

As expected there are enough people to distract the cashier and so, Clint walks casually along the few aisles until he finds the water bottles. A small one won’t hurt anyone, he thinks, quickly looks around if somebody is watching and grabs the bottle to hide it under his shirt, when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder.

Fuck.

“I’ve had it with rats like you.” The hand growls loudly and tightens its grip around his shoulder. “I’m calling the police. Now put that bottle back where it belongs!”

He is so screwed.

On a normal day, he would try to bullshit himself out of the situation or at least twist out of the grip and bolt for the door but that isn’t an option with his bone deep tiredness and his knee hurting like a bitch. Maybe when hand guy is busy calling the cops…?

“Aw, come on, Dave! You know I promised mom I’d make sure you wouldn’t do anything stupid this time!”

What!?

More than a bit bewildered he looks up and sees a blond guy walking towards them. And the craziest thing is, the guy actually gives him a small nod as if encouraging Clint to play along. Well… Clint isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth and quickly modifies his expression to a mix of panic and sheepishness.

“Please don’t tell mom! She’ll only tell dad and – “

His Samaritan rolls his eyes and holds out a hand. “Just give me the bottle.” He then shifts his attention to the clerk behind Clint. “Sorry about my brother. Of course I’ll pay.” Clint had to give it to the guy, he was an excellent actor and had the exasperated and irritated big brother act down pat. “We’re actually on our way to a military school to fix that problem.”

“Ah, Saint Matthew’s?” The clerk responds and eases his grip when the guy nods. “Good school. My sister’s oldest went there for two years. They really set him straight.” Then, grumpy clerk actually lets go of Clint’s shoulder and pats it hard enough to shove him towards his self-proclaimed brother before busying himself with the pager on his belt. “Have an eye on him.”

“Yessir!” the guy nods and puts an arm around Clint’s neck to guide him towards the cash register.

“Thanks, man. But you do realize I’m broke, right?” Clint whispers.

The guy gives him an eyeroll. “And here I thought you were about to pull out your platinum American Express. Don’t sweat it.”

In the end, the guy adds a bunch of snacks and a soda to the water and leaves a hefty tip with the cashier. He then assigns Clint the task of the drudge and herds him out of the shop towards a nice, red sportscar.

“You have two options now.” The guy starts casually while walking. “You can give me my soda, two of those chocolate bars, and go on your merry way. But you might get chased by that angry mob of peasants that are watching us from the shop and waiting for an opportunity to light their torches and fetch their pitchforks. Or you get into the car and I can drop you off wherever. Provided it’s somewhere between here and L.A..”

With a look over his shoulder, Clint has to agree that the first option is most likely to get him lynched. On the other hand, alone in a car with a kind but super weird stranger who helps petty thieves? Then again, Clint isn’t helpless and unless this guy isn’t as wispy as he appears to be, he can probably hold his own against him.

When he can’t think of a third option, he nods towards the car. “Okay, I’ll come with you, but just so you know, you’re a weirdo.” The guy just laughs at that and gets into the car.

Well then, Clint thinks, and gets into the passenger seat where he immediately opens his bottle of water and downs half of its content in two gulps. That’s what heaven must feel like! Especially when his limbs start to relax and he downright melts into the comfy seat.

“Thanks. Again, I mean. I’m Clint, by the way.” He says after a mile and another mouthful of water and this time really looks at the guy. He looks like he’s in his early twenties, maybe. Not that much older than Clint. He doesn’t look bad, though the color of his hair doesn’t really suit him. The dirty blond somehow looks wrong with his rather olive complexion.

“Edwin. And no problem.” Edwin gives him a quick grin.

“Who the hell still names their kid Edwin?” Clint blurts before he can stop himself.

But Edwin doesn’t seem offended. “Who still names their kid Clint?”

“Fair point.” He nods and rummages through the plastic bag from the shop. “Want your soda?”

“Yeah, thanks. And one of those chocolate bars?”

Clint opens the soda bottle, hands it to him and starts to peel a chocolate bar while Edwin’s drinking.

“Wow. Can I keep you?” Edwin grins when he exchanges the bottle for the half-wrapped snack.

“You drive, you get fed.”

“Yep, I’m keeping you.” Edwin chuckles. And weirdly enough, Clint doesn’t feel wary about the comment. Edwin seems like a genuinely nice guy who is maybe missing a few screws.

For the rest of the drive to L.A. they snark at each other, bellow along to songs on the radio, devour the remaining snacks and, all in all, have a good time. Clint almost forgets about the Swordsman, Trickshot and his brother and even his bruises fade into a dull throbbing. Only when the road gets more crowded and they can see the city in the near distance, does the hopelessness of his future become tangible again. He tries not to let his sudden change of mood show but judging by the side glances Edwin shoots him, he fails miserably.

“By the way, where do you want me to drop you off?” Edwin finally asks the dreaded question.

“Just drop me off at the next subway station or something.” Clint shrugs with more casualness than he feels.

“I’m pretty sure gas station thieves don’t have much money for train tickets. Do you have a destination in mind?” There is no malice in Edwin’s voice but the label kind of hurts nonetheless. But maybe it was just the truth in it that hurt.

“No.” He answers more defeated than intended. “Just want to be somewhere else.”

Edwin nods as if he’s making sense and that’s that. He changes the topic back to his weekend with his best friend Rhodey and continues into the city. They pass several subway stations, the Union Station and eventually leave the bigger streets to dive into a seemingly more suburban neighborhood until they park in the driveway of one of those small, cozy family homes. When they’d been in the system, Barney and him had always hoped to end up in one of those. A loving family and maybe even a dog. That was the dream.

“Here we are.” Edwin unfastens his seatbelt and stretches thoroughly. “I still have some instant soups in the pantry but I’m feeling more like take out. What are your thoughts on pizza?” He then blabbers on about the merits of pepperoni versus pineapple but Clint still needs a moment to process the first part, because it damn well sounds like an invitation. Edwin seems to finally realize that Clint’s just staring at him because he looks back and furrows his brow. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t like pizza.”

“Who the hell doesn’t like pizza!?” Clint blurts and before he can overthink it, he adds an incredulous “Why?”

_Why are you doing this? Why are you so nice to me?_

Even though most of it remains unsaid, Edwin seems to get it. His features soften and then he shrugs. “Because I like you, the house is practically empty, you’ve got nowhere to go, I need someone to help me renovate this place and I kind of know what it’s like to wanna get away from someone or -where.”

And it’s baffling, Edwin talks about all of this like others would about the weather. Clint’s been screwed over often enough that he feels like there _has_ to be something wrong with the offer. On the other hand, it can only get better from here on, right?

“I want pepperoni.” He says eventually and a smile spreads over the other’s face.

They get out of the car, and after Edwin fetches his bag, head into the house. While his host stays in the foyer to call the pizza place, Clint decides to wander around and explore. The rooms are sparsely furnished, the living room doesn’t have much more than a ratty couch and a TV, separated by a low table and the kitchen is lacking anything that isn’t a bare necessity. But before he can enter any of the other rooms, Edwin is back from his phone call.

“Food should be here in about half an hour. Let me give you a tour and show you your room.” He announces and walks past Clint. “As you can see there is not much in regard to décor or, you know, anything, really, but I plan to change that. This is the living room, over there is the kitchen…” And so Edwin rambles on. The house is not exactly big. They visit a bathroom with a wonderfully large tub, then Edwin’s and Clint’s room. Both bedrooms contain a bed, a bedside table with a lamp, and a closet. It is obvious that Edwin either doesn’t spend much time here or doesn’t care about the comfort factor of his living space. It gets even weirder when his host wants to lead him down to the basement.

“Dude, no offense, but I’m not going into your basement.” Clint’s feet stand firmly on the top step as he looks down at Edwin who really seems more like an excited kid than a psychopath who’ll lock him into his basement. But who says psychopaths don’t look all excited when they see their evil plan come to fruition?

“But-“ Edwin stops, then opens his mouth, looks at Clint and shuts it again. “But…” he starts again but trails off, looking crestfallen for a moment before switching back to friendly. “Okay, maybe another time.”

“Uh… yeah, maybe. Sorry.” Clint mumbles as he makes way for Edwin. The blonde seems like he’s back to normal but the bubbly undertones in his demeanor are gone. Guilt rises and manifests like a leaden coat. He opens his mouth for another apology but Edwin just waves it aside.

“Don’t worry, I get it. Stranger danger and all that.”

Clint nods mutely and follows him into the living room when the doorbell rings. _Saved by the bell._

The rest of the evening is spent with pizza and soda in front of the TV. Just like in the car, the awkwardness disappears quickly and they soon find a sitcom to mock and then, later, discover their shared love for infomercials. It is cozy despite the lack of curtains or a lamp shade and even though he locks his room later that night, when he burrows himself into the bedding he allows himself to hope that maybe things are looking up for a change.

They don’t talk about the basement for the next four days. Edwin just tends to have those moments when he starts to scribble something on the first reachable surface and then runs down the stairs to the basement to disappear for some time that can range from ten minutes to ten hours. But other than that, they spend their time in furniture- and department stores. He’s still not sure how Edwin can afford all of this but at the end of those four days they have curtains in front of every window, lamps that don’t flicker, a microwave, vases and stuff (because Edwin likes decoration for some reason), a bigger couch, an armchair, shelves, one of those fancy shoe racks, a cabinet for the TV, carpets for the living room and the bedrooms, and bookcases because, as it turns out, they just didn’t park in the garage because it was full of books and weird knick-knack. And because Edwin’s apparently some kind of genius, they’re mostly engineering and computing handbooks.

In the end, those books turn out to be the reason why Clint changes his mind about the basement. And Edwin’s random 15-minute rant about “how do you expect me to build an AI with this little disk space”. In the end Clint decided against the psychopath hypothesis and instead went for a mad genius theory.

“Do you still want to show me your basement?” He asks over cereal the next morning.

“You want to see my basement?” When Edwin looks up from his coffee in hopeful excitement, he looks so much like a meerkat that Clint can’t suppress a chuckle.

“Yes. But if you try to lock me in there and hold me hostage I will punch you.”

“Fair.” Ed grins and pushes himself away from the counter. “You will not regret this.”

He has to admit he is a bit nervous when he walks down the steps, around the corner and… right into a sci-fi movie because there is a robot arm sitting in the middle of the room. It’s partly dismantled and hooked to several cables that all lead to blinking equipment but Clint has read enough comic books to know what this all is.

A robot.

Edwin has built a robot in his fucking basement.

“This. Is. So. Cool!” He exclaims wide eyed and takes a step forward but doesn’t dare to go closer. There are parts and tools scattered around the robotic arm and the cables are real tripping hazards, so he stays where he is.

When Clint can finally tear his eyes away from the robot he looks around the room: Apart from that, the basement is one big room. It’s a bit warm but seemingly ventilated and brightly lit by several shadeless lightbulbs that hang from the ceiling. Three walls are lined with metal racks full of tools, machines, cables and other stuff he can’t even name. The lower shelves house opaque plastic boxes of various sizes and some seem to blink. Amidst the shelving stands a metal table with two computer screens but only one keyboard and one mouse. At first he thinks the computer is missing but then he remembers the blinking equipment on the adjacent rack which in turn brings his attention back to the big robotic arm in the middle of the room.

Now he can definitely understand why Edwin was so eager to show him his basement.

He doesn’t lock his bedroom door that night. He wakes up more than once without reason but it gets better the following nights. Now that they’ve furnished the house and filled the kitchen with actual food, Clint has nothing much to do. He takes over cooking duties after Edwin manages to burn spaghetti. He can’t cook either but he watches enough TV to learn the basics quickly.

They fall into a pattern: Both get up around mid-morning. The first one up starts the coffee machine and they have breakfast. Then Ed holes himself up in his workshop and Clint watches TV. Once his knee has healed enough he goes on runs and exercises as much as their living space allows. On days the basement doesn’t call, they watch TV together or play on the new SNES and go shopping for groceries or spare parts for Edwin’s project. In the evening Clint usually cooks and they watch a movie.

It’s all weirdly domestic but nice.

It is the sound of shattering ceramic that wakes Clint in the middle of the night a few weeks after his arrival. Within seconds, he is out of the bed, armed with a wooden leg of the table they had thrown out three days ago. Quietly he leaves the bedroom and listens in but the only murmuring he can hear stems from the TV. Clint sighs. Edwin has probably just fallen asleep while watching some idiotic infomercial.

But when he enters the living room, Ed is wide awake, his glassy eyes staring at some newsreel.

“… judging by the traced alcohol level of Mr. Stark’s corpse, the authorities suspect an accident due to inebriation. Several politicians and celebrities, amongst them the President, already expressed their mourning for Howard and Maria Stark. Stark Industries…”

Clint’s mind races as he tears his eyes away from the TV and back to his host who’s just barely holding back tears now.

And suddenly it dawns on him. Can it be? Clint squints.

“You’re Tony Stark.” He blurts and immediately shuts his mouth when the other’s head whips around to face him.

Edwin, no, Tony, doesn’t deny the exclamation. He’s apparently too rattled from the news report to do anything but nod hesitantly. Normally, Clint would probably be more excited about his discovery, but right now it’s all secondary because his lifesaver and, yeah, probably the best friend he’s ever had, needs him. So Clint sits down on the couch and pulls him into his arms. For a moment, Tony goes rigid and Clint can’t blame him since their previous touches hadn’t gone further than the occasional pat on the back and a high five here and there. But it doesn’t take long for the genius to melt into the embrace and just let go.

After some time, Tony’s sobs fade and he tries to pull away from Clint. “I’m making your shirt all wet.” He murmurs faintly but Clint would have none of it and pulls him back into the embrace.

“Don’t care. It dries off eventually.” He mumbles and sets his chin on the other’s crown.

They stayed like this for a long time. Clint switches to a Star Trek marathon a few minutes later so Tony wouldn’t hear the news over and over again and gets up once to get beers from the fridge.

“I hated him, you know?” Tony croaks during third episode. The question sounds rhetorical and so Clint just strokes his arm to show he’s listening. “Even graduating from MIT at 16 wasn’t enough for him. Nothing I did was ever enough. Especially not when… But I still didn’t want him to _die_!”

Clint hugs Tony a bit closer after that confession and nods. “He was still your dad…” he murmured and Tony nodded meekly. “I know.” He pauses, pondering whether it is appropriate or not and then discards that notion altogether. “My dad was an asshole too. I don’t regret running away after mom’s death but as much as I hated him, I didn’t really want him to die either. In retrospect at least.” He huffs out a mirthless laugh.

“I regret running away because I left mamma behind. And Jarvis. But I’d probably do it again because…”

“Because he knows how to push your buttons.”

Tony nods and they remain silent for a bit.

“Don’t get hung up on the what-ifs. I doubt you could have prevented this car crash from happening. And… I think sometimes cutting ties and leaving can be the best thing that’s ever happened even though it hurts like hell.”

“Tell me?” Tony asks after a moment of quiet.

And so Clint tells him about his mom and dad, about Barney, about the foster homes, the circus and Trickshot and the Swordsman right up to the night he’s left. For one, he wants to distract Tony at least momentarily from his grief, on the other hand he wants to come clean. The guy has given him so much; a friend, a home, safety without asking anything in return. And now that he knows his secret, too, sharing is the least he can do.

Later, they watch the sunrise from the porch.


End file.
